Their hungry rest with bitterness, now sleeps
Lapp'd in bad pleasures, and triumphantly
Mocks thee in visions of successful hate
Too like the truth of day.
Giacomo.
If e'er he wakes
Again, I will not trust to hireling hands.
orsino.
Why, that were well. I must be gone; good night!
When next we meet—
Giacomo.
May all be done—and all
Forgotten.—Oh, that I had never been!
- [Exeunt.

ACT IV. SCENE i. An Apartment in the Castle of Petrella. Enter Cenci.

cenci. She comes not; yet I left her even now Wanquish'd and faint. She knows the penalty Of her delay : yet what if threats are vain? Am I now not within Petrella's moat? Or fear I still the eyes and ears of Rome? Might I not drag her by the golden hair? Stamp on her? Keep her sleepless till her brain Be overworn ? Tame her with chains and famine? Less would suffice. Yet so to leave undone What I most seek! No, "t is her stubborn will, Which by its own consent shall stoop as low As that which drags it down.

Enter Lucreti A.

Thou loathed wretch! Ilide thee from my abhorrence; Fly, begone! Yet stay! Bid Beatrice come hither. LU cartia. t Oh, IIusband' I pray, for thine own wretched sake, Ileed what thou dost. A man who walks like thee Through crimes, and through the danger of his crimes, Each hour may stumble o'er a sudden grave. And thou art old; thy hairs are hoary grey; As thou wouldst save thyself from death and hell, Pity thy daughter; give her to some friend In marriage : so that she may tempt thce not To hatred, or worse thoughts, if worse there be. CENCI. What! like her sister, who has found a home To mock my hate from with prosperity? Strange ruin shall destroy both her and thee, And all that yet remain. My death may be Rapid, her destiny outspeeds it. Go, Bid her come hither, and before my mood Be changed, lest I should drag her by the hair. LU citeti A. She sent me to thee, husband. At thy presence She fell, as thou dost know, into a trance; And in that trance she heard a voice which said, • Cenci must die! Let him confess himself! Even now the accusing Angel waits to hear

If God, to punish his enormous crimes,
Harden his dying heart -
cenci.
Why—such things are–
No doubt divine revealings may be made.
'T is plain I have been favoured from above,
For when I cursed my sons they died.—Aye—so-
As to the right or wrong, that's talk. Repentance—
Repentance is an easy moment's work,
And more depends on God than me. Well—well—
I must give up the greater point, which was
To poison and corrupt her soul.
[A pause; Lucretia approaches anxiously, and
then shrinks back as he speaks.
One, two;
Ayc—Rocco and Cristofano my curse
Strangled: and Giacomo, I think, will find
Life a worse Hell than that beyond the grave:
Beatrice shall, if there be skill in hate,
Die in despair, blaspheming : to Bernardo,
He is so innocent, I will bequeath
The memory of these deeds, and make his youth
The sepulchre of hope, where evil thoughts
Shall grow like weeds on a neglected tomb.
When all is done, out in the wide Campagna,
I will pile up my silver and my gold ;
My costly robes, paintings, and tapestries;
My parchments and all records of my wealth,
And make a bonfire in my joy, and leave
Of my possessions nothing but my nam
Which, shall be an inheritance to strip
Its wearer bare as infamy. That done,
My soul, which is a scourge, will I resign
Into the hands of him who wielded it;
Be it for its own punishment or theirs,
He will not ask it of me till the lash
Be broken in its last and deepest wound;
Until its hate be all inflicted. Yet,
Lest death outspeed my purpose, let me make
Short work and sure.
lucretia (stops him).
Oh, stay ! It was a feint:
She had no vision, and she heard no voice.
I said it but to awe thee.

cENct,
That is well.
Wile palterer with the sacred truth of God,
Be thy soul choked with that blaspheming lie!
For Beatriee worse terrors are in store
To bend her to my will.
lucrae Tia.
Olı to what will?
What cruel sufferings more than she has known
Canst thou inflict?
cenci.
Andrea' go, call my daughter;

And if she comes not, tell her that I come.
What sufferings? I will drag her, step by step,
Through infamies unheard of among men;
She shall stand shelterless in the broad noon
Of public scorn, for acts blazon'd abroad,
One among which shall be—What? Canst thou guess?
She shall become (for what she most abliors
Shall have a fascination to entrap -
Her loathing will), to her own conscious self
All she appears to others; and when dead,

As she shall die unshrived and unforgiven,
A rebel to her father and her God,
IIer corpse shall be abandoned to the hounds;
Her name shall be the terror of the earth;
Her spirit shall approach the throne of God
Plague-spotted with my curses. I will make
Body and soul a monstrous lump of ruin.

Enter ANDaea.

A N DR ea.

The lady Beatrice— cEN ci.

Speak, pale slave! What Said she?

.AND REA.

My Lord,'t was what she looked; she said :
Go tell my father that I see the gulf
Of Hell between us two, which he may pass,
I will not. [Exit ANDREA.
Cenci.
Go thou quick, Lucretia,
Tell her to come; yet let her understand
Iler coming is consent: and say, moreover,
That if she come not I will curse her.
[Exit Lucaeria.
Ha!

With what but with a father's curse doth God
Panic-strike armed victory, and make pale
Cities in their prosperity? The world's Father
Must grant a parent's prayer against his child
Be he who asks even what men call me.
Will not the deaths of her rebellious brothers
Awe her before I speak i For I on them
Did imprecate quick ruin, and it came.

Enter Luck ETIA.

Well; what? Speak, wretch!
LU civetia.
She said, I cannot come;

Go tell my father that I see a torrent
Of his own blood raging between us.

cExci (kneeling).

God |

Hear me! If this most spe ious mass of flesh,
Which thou hast made my daughter; this my blood,
This particle of my divided being;
Or rather, this my bane and my disease,
Whose sight infects and poisons me; this devil
Which sprung from me as from a hell, was meant
To aught good use; if her bright loveliness
Was kindled to illumine this dark world;
If, nursed by thy selectest dew of love,
Such virtues blossom in her as should make
The peace of life, I pray thee for my sake,
As thou the common God and Father art
Of her, and me, and all; reverse that doom!
Earth, in the name of God, let her food be
Poison, until she be encrusted round
With leprous stains ! Heaven, rain upon her head
The blistering drops of the Maremma's dew,
Till she be speckled like a toad; parch up
Those love-enkindled lips, warp those fine limbs
To loathed lameness! All-beholding sun,
Strike in thine envy those life-darting eyes

Lucretia.
Peace! peace!

For thine own sake unsay those dreadful words.
When high God grants he punishes such prayers.
cenci (leaping up, and throwing his right hand towards

Heaven).
Ile does his will, I mine ! This in addition,
That if she have a child—

LUCneti A.

Horrible thought !
cENct.
That if she ever have a child; and thou,
Quick Nature I adjure thee by thy God,
That thou be fruitful in her, and encrease
And multiply, fulfilling his command,
And my deep imprecation! May it be
A hideous likeness of herself, that as
From a distorting mirror, she may see
Her image mixed with what she most abhors,
Smiling upon her from her nursing breast.
And that the child may from its infancy
Grow, day by day, more wicked and deform’d,
Turning her mother's love to misery:
And that both she and it may live until
It shall repay her care and pain with hate,
Or what may else be more unnatural,
So he may hunt her through the clamorous scoffs
Of the loud world to a dishonour'd grave.
Shall I revoke this curse 2 Go, bid her come,
Before my words are chronicled in heaven.
[Exit Lucteria.
I do not feel as if I were a man,
But like a fiend appointed to chastise
The offences of some unremember'd world.
My blood is running up and down my veins;
A fearful pleasure makes it prick and tingle :
I feel a giddy sickness of strange awe;
My heart is beating with an expectation
Of horrid joy.
Enter Lucaeria.
What? Speak!
Lucerti A.
She bids thee curse;
And if thy curses, as they cannot do,
Could kill her soul—
cenci.
She would not come. ‘T is well,
I can do both : first take what I demand,
And then extort concession. To thy chamber
Fly cre I spurn thee; and beware this night
That thou cross not my footsteps. It were safer
To come between the tiger and his prey.
[Exit Luckeri A.

It must be late; mine eyes grow weary dim
With unaccustom'd heaviness of sleep.
Conscience! Oh! thou most insolent of lies!
They say that sleep, that healing dew of heaven,
Steeps not in balm the foldings of the brain
Which thinks thee an impostor. I will go
First to belie thee with an hour of rest,
Which will be deep and calm, I feel: and then–
O, multitudinous Hell, the fiends will shake
Thine arches with the laughter of their joy!
There shall be lamentation heard in leaven

All good shall droop and sicken, and ill things Shall with a spirit of unnatural life

Stir and be quicken'd—even as I am now. [Exit.

SCENE i i. Before the Castle of Petrella. Enter BEArnice and Lucaeria above on the ramparts.

bearance. They come not yet.

Luca Eti A.

'T is scarce midnight.
be At Rica.
How slow

Behind the course of thought, even sick with speed,
Lags leaden-footed time!

Luchetia.

The minutes pass—

If he should wake before the deed is done?

hkarnice.
O, Mother' He must never wake again.
What thou hast said persuades me that our act
Will but dislodge a spirit of deep hell
Out of a human form.

Luchett A.

'T is true he spoke

Of death and judgment with strange confidence
For one so wicked; as a man believing
In God, yet recking not of good or ill.
And yet to die without confession'—

bearance.

Oh!

Believe that heaven is merciful and just,
And will not add our dread necessity
To the amount of his offences.

Enter Olimpio and MA azio, below. Lucrate ria. See, They come. brariat ce. All mortal things must hasten thus To their dark end. Let us go down. [Exeunt Lucakri A and BEArnice from above. oltai pio. How feel you to this work? Manzio. As one who thinks A thousand crowns excellent market price For an old murderer's life. Your cheeks are pale. olixi pio. It is the white reflection of your own, Which you call pale. at Anzio. Is that their natural hue? oli aipio. or "t is my hate and the deferr'd desire To wreak it, which extinguishes their blood. M.A. azio. You are inclined then to this business? elixi pio. Aye. if one should bribe me with a thousand crowns To kill a serpent which had stung my child, I could not be more willing.

Enter Br. Ataice and Lucaeria, below. Noble ladies!

he Atalce. Are ye resolved o Lim pio. Is he asleep M Ahzio. Is all Quiet: Luchetia.

I mixed an opiate with his drink: He sleeps so soundly— b. EAt nick. That his deatl, will be But as a change of sin-chastising dreams, A dark continuance of the Hell within him, Which God extinguish' But ye are resolved? Ye know it is a high and holy deed? o Lixi pio. We are resolved. MARzio. As to the how this act Be warranted, it rests with you. BEAT Rice. Well, follow : oli Mp to. Ilush ' Hark! What noise is that? at Anzio.

Ha! some one comes' pearance.

Ye conscience-stricken cravens, rock to rest
Your baby hearts. It is the iron gate, i
Which ye left open, swinging to the wind,
That enters whistling as in scorn. Come, follow'

And be your steps like mine, light, quick, and bold.
[Exeunt.

SC E N E iii. An Apartment in the Castle. Enter Be Arrice and Lucasri A.

Lucastia. They are about it now.

beatal ce.

Nay, it is done.

lucarria. I have not heard him groan.

the Arnice.

He will not groan. Luc Rett A.

What sound is that?

hearnice.

List' "t is the tread of feet

About his bed.

Lucaeria.

My God!

If he be now a cold stiff corpse—

de Arai ce.

O, fear not

what may be done, but what is left undone: The act seals all.

Enter Olimpio and Manzio.

Is it accomplished

A serpent; or a corpse in which some fiend
Were laid to sleep.
sAWELLA.
Lady, my moments here
Are counted. I must rouse him from his sleep,
Since none else dare.
luchetia (aside).

O, terror! O, despair!

(To Be RNAndo.) Bernardo, conduct you the Lord Legate to

Your father's chamber.

[Exeunt Savella and Ben NAado.

Enter Beatrice.

death ice.
"T is a messenger

Come to arrest the culprit who now stands
Before the throne of unappealable God.
Both Earth and Heaven, consenting arbiters,
Acquit our deed.

Luca Eti A.

Oh, agony of fear !

Would that he yet might live! Even now I heard
The legate's followers whisper as they pass'd
They had a warrant for his instant death.
All was prepared by unforbidden means
Which we must pay so dearly, having done.
Even now they search the tower, and find the body;
Now they suspect the truth; now they consult
Before they come to tax us with the fact;
O, horrible, ’t is all discover'd

beat Rice.

Mother, What is done wisely, is done well. Be bold As thou art just. T is like a truant child To fear that others know what thou hast done, Even from thine own strong consciousness, and thus Write on unsteady eyes and alter'd cheeks All thou wouldst hide. Be faithful to thyself, And fear no other witness but thy fear. For if, as cannot be, some circumstance Should rise in accusation, we can blind Suspicion with such cheap astonishment, Or overbear it with such guiltless pride, As murderers cannot feign. The deed is done, And what may follow now regards not me. I am as universal as the light; Free as the earth-surrounding air; as firm As the world's centre. Consequence, to me, Is as the wind which strikes the solid rock But shakes it not. [A cry within and tumult. BERNA to do. Murder! Murder! Murder!

Enter BERNARD0 and SA well A.

savella (to his followers). Go, search the castle round; sound the alarm; Look to the gates that none escape!

BEAt Rice. What now 1 BERNA ado.

I know not what to say—my father's dead.

- be attai ce. How, dead! he only sleeps; you mistake, brother. His sleep is very calm, very like death;

'T is wonderful how well a tyrant sleeps.
He is not dead 2
Bean Ando.
Dead; murdered.
LucastiA (with extreme agitation).
Oh, no, no,
He is not murder'd, though he may be dead;
I have alone the keys of those apartments.
SAWELLA.
Ha! Is it so
Beatnice.
My Lord, I pray excuse us;
We will retire; my mother is not well:
She seems quite overcome with this strange horror.
[Exeunt Lucaeria and BEAThick.
sawell, A.
Can you suspect who may have murder'd him?
Beft NAR do.
I know not what to think.
8AWei, L.A.
Can you name any
Who had an interest in his death?
BERNA fado.
Alas!
I can name none who had not, and those most
Who most lament that such a deed is done;
My mother, and my sister, and myself.
sAWELLA.
T is strange! There were clear marks of violence.
I found the old man's body in the moonlight,
Hanging beneath the window of his chamber
Among the branches of a pine: he could not
Have fallen there, for all his limbs lay heap'd
And effortless; "t is true there was no blood.—
Favour me, Sir—it much imports your house
That all should be made clear—to tell the ladies
That I request their presence.
[Exit Bernardo.

Enter Guards, bringing in Maazio.

GuAR d. We have one. officer. My Lord, we found this ruffian and another Lurking among the rocks; there is no doubt But that they are the murderers of Count Cenci: Each had a bag of coin; this fellow wore A gold-inwoven robe, which, shining bright Under the dark rocks to the glimmering moon, Betray'd them to our notice: the other fell Desperately fighting. SAVELLA. What does he confess? officer. He keeps firm silence; but these lines found on him May speak. sAvel, L.A. Their language is at least sincere. [Reads. « To the LADY BEAT Rice. • That the atonement of what my nature Sickens to conjecture may soon arrive, I send thee, at thy brother's desire, those Who will speak and do more than I dare Write.—Thy devoted servant, ObsiNo. "